Things Above
by Athena Phoenix 144
Summary: A series of drabbles of the original seven Leaguers' reflections following “The Doomsday Sanction”.
1. Walk Humbly

**Things Above**

A series of drabbles by Athena Phoenix

**Walk Humbly**

That night, Kal tossed restlessly in his bed. He couldn't stop thinking about Bruce's accusations that he and the others were becoming like the Justice Lords, thinking they were gods.

_We just did what we had to. What else _could_ we have done? _

A song he'd learned at church camp long ago ran through his mind:

"He has shown thee, O man, what is good and what the Lord requires of thee.

But to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God."

"_Do justly."_

_Check. _

"_Love mercy."_

_Check…I think. _

"_Walk humbly." _

_That'll take some work._


	2. Destiny

**Destiny**

Diana had told him of Bruce's charge.

Gods? Okay, people sometimes said his costume reminded them of Mercury – or the FTD guy – but that was as close as he'd ever come to divine aspirations. He wasn't even sure there _was_ a God, but he knew he'd never become a Justice Lord.

And then Wally remembered.

Was _that_ his destiny, to keep the Justice League from turning rogue? If so, who was responsible for appointing him to that task? Was he to be a guiding light – or a sacrifice?

Wally's usual grin faded, and he suddenly felt very cold and alone.


	3. Decades

**Decades**

Author's Note: This follows our previous story "Reconciliation".

He was angry – and afraid.

Did they realize that invulnerability was not infallibility? That their high-handed decision had brought them one step closer to the future they all feared?

Bruce yearned to release his emotions with martial arts, but his injuries were too great.

He forced himself to breathe deeply, envisioning the beads. The young priest had been right. Even when his faith faltered, the prayers had served as a mantra, leading him to a momentary peace.

His right hand immobilized, he crossed himself awkwardly with his left and began.

Funny how reciting the Creed was always the hardest part.


	4. Sacrifice

**Sacrifice**

Altars lined the walls of Diana's quarters: flower-bedecked tables dedicated to Athena, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hera and others.

Now Diana desired Athena's favor most. For her guidance in war, and even more for her wisdom. Amazons were immortal; not divine, not all-knowing.

He would never let her forget that.

Diana wondered what sacrifice would move Athena to grant her what she sought. A libation? The scent of smoked meat? Or would only something less tangible but more personal suffice…?

Could she leave her love on the altar? Could she make _his_ choice?

She thought she heard laughter from faraway Mount Olympus.


	5. Exile

**Exile**

No one had told Shayera. She had pieced the story together from half-heard rumors and speculations.

It didn't surprise her that they'd left her out of the decision. Why grant such power to one who had so nearly condemned billions to death?

Now, she herself was condemned. Exiled. Back in the League, but still alone.

Bruce needn't worry about her ever playing God. Icthulhu had brought her and her people nothing but pain. Any faith she had was in herself and her mission – whatever it might be.

Needing to see him again, she stretched her wings and headed for Salem.


	6. A Place to Stand

**A Place to Stand**

"Plant your feet," he had told Rex as they prepared for the battle of their lives. Those words echoed in John's head when Clark told him of Bruce's reaction to their decision. The League would have to do the same; draw a line, take a stand – or fall.

He thought about the myriad of choices he'd had to make as a Marine and as a Green Lantern, often between what was expedient and what was _right_.

But rules had only guided him so far. Where, now, should he plant his feet?

In his mind, his mother whispered, "On the Rock."


	7. Inside

**Inside**

He hadn't been able to read Doomsday's mind, but no telepath was needed to discern the rage and hatred that emanated.

The strong emotions aboard the Watchtower that day had forced their way past J'onn's automatic mental shields. Anger. Fear. Vengeance.

And with Clark's carrying out of the sentence – relief.

He had returned to his quarters afterward to meditate, to purge himself of the destructive feelings. To become, once again, the calm and understanding Martian everyone saw.

Yet he wondered: had H'ronmeer died when his followers perished, or did the god of death and fire live on inside his heart?


End file.
